Dead Man's Hill
by anacsadder
Summary: Two years later, Marik has been having trouble dealing with Bakura's disappearance after the Shadow RPG.
1. I'll Leave a Message

**A/N: Multi-part song fic inspired by Dead Man's Hill by the Indigo Girls**

 **Chapter 1: I'll Leave a Message When Everything Comes Apart**

The journey would've been hard enough on foot without juggling a crutch and a parasol. By the time he crested the dune, Marik was sweating profusely. Arid breeze ruffled his hair as he stared into the sand pit below. Though the desert had swallowed most of it already, larger bits of rock columns and brick walls still jutted toward the sky like the limbs of a drowning person.

Once he'd caught his breath Marik turned sideways and edged down the slope, leading with his crutch. He winced as the sand shifted and jabbed the crutch up under his arm pit. He leaned on his good leg and looked up the way he'd come. Then he started moving again.

Brace his crutch in the sand. Slide down on his good leg. Brace. Slide. Brace... Slide...

The crutch hit a loose pocket and sank deeper than he expected. Losing his balance, his good leg slipped past it and he fell into a roll. Pain seared his ribs as a broken pillar halted his fall about ten feet later. Wincing, he pushed himself up and looked around. His crutch and his parasol had stopped a little farther up the slope. His palms were scraped to hell and his side ached with the promise of a nasty bruise, but he'd reached the bottom of the dune.

Stretching his bad leg out behind him, he half crawled, half dragged himself to a broken piece of wall and hoisted himself up onto it. Baked by the sun, he stretched out and crossed his arms on his chest. The sky was an infinite blue void out here. No clouds. No air traffic. No birds. Empty. Desolate above and below. He was completely alone.

"Gods curse you, Bakura," Marik mumbled as the tears welled up. "Why wasn't I enough?" He closed his eyes and rolled onto his side. Tears mingled with the sweat running into his hair. "Why couldn't I save you?" He hugged himself and squeezed his eyes shut. "Please, Ra... It hurts so much... I just..." He sobbed. "I can't... please help me..."

Exhausted from his hike, exhausted from the heat, exhausted by his loneliness, he sobbed himself to sleep. He remained that way for a long time. Long enough that he found himself in the shade of a dune when his eyes fluttered open. He rubbed his sticky tongue against the roof of his mouth as he sat up. When he took in his surroundings, he stopped and did a double take.

 _'Go home, idiot'_ was scrawled in large letters across the dune he'd stumbled down. His parasol was staked in the ground at the end of the word 'idiot' like a period.

Marik looked around more frantically. There wasn't anywhere for anyone to hide out here. He didn't see any footsteps besides his own, distinctive, dragging ones. The wind and sand could have covered them over given enough time, but then the message wouldn't have survived.

"Bakura?" Marik whispered. If any place could be haunted, it would be the ruins of the Millenium Shrine. A gate to the afterlife where many souls had been trapped for many years, stagnating in a pool of powerful magic. "Bakura!" He tried to stand up and slipped in the sand. He made sure his leg brace was tight, and then tried again more carefully. "Please, if that's you... Do something! Move something! Anything!"

A wind rushed by, kicking up swirls of sand. Marik hugged himself. As hot as it got during the day, the desert could be downright frigid at night.

 _Go home, idiot._

"Dammit, Bakura," he muttered. Gritting his teeth, he limped the couple of feet to his parasol, and then used it as a cane to reach his crutch. "Fine, but this isn't over. I will see you again. One way or another."


	2. Trying to Feel

**Trying to Feel What's Coming Next**

Marik dragged himself up the side of the dune and sat down. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he angled his makeshift sled down the other side and climbed on top of the bundle lashed to it. Using his hands to slow and steer himself, he made it to the ruins at the bottom without much incident. From there it was comparatively easy to get the large plank and all of his supplies to the wall he'd fallen asleep on days before.

He untied the ropes holding the sled to his waist and unloaded his camping gear. He unwrapped the tarp and set everything in it aside. Then he spread the tarp out on the sand next to the wall. After he unrolled his sleeping bag and propped the sled against the wall, he had a shady space just large enough to wriggle into on his belly.

He dug a notebook, a pen, and a bottle of water out of his pack. Then he settled into his little cave and started writing.

 _Bakura_

He paused and tapped the pen against his teeth.

 _Okay, so, your host_

He scribbled out 'host' and wrote 'vessel.' Then he scribbled the whole thing out and wrote

 _I've missed you terribly. I'm sure you know that, from the last time I was here. Ryou told me that he coped with the loss of his mom and sister by writing them letters. He said if he left the notes by their graves, they could read them. I know this isn't your grave, or maybe it is? But if you can write in the sand, you can write with a pen, right? Please talk to me. I need to hear from you. I need to know where you are. I need to_

He stopped writing and chewed on the pen this time.

 _... I have so much that I want to say to you that I don't even know where to start. Which is weird, because I've spent so many hours thinking of all the things I wish I could say, but I never spent any time trying to put them into coherent sentences. So I'm going to leave this out and, I don't know, let me know if you read it or something somehow and we can start there._

Marik put down the pen and reread the sloppy paragraph. He closed the journal, placed it on the ground in front of him, and stared at it for a long time. Then he opened it to the page he'd written on and crossed his arms under his chin. A breeze fluttered the pages, so he weighed the edges down with crumbs of rubble from nearby.

The sun climbed higher into the sky. Marik retreated into his shade to hide from it. He rubbed his leg, wincing. A hand fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out a bottle of pain medication. Still half full. He studied it as his eyes adjusted to the lower lighting. Ultimately, he sighed and put it away. Worn out from the journey, he dozed through the hottest part of the day.

Once more, he awoke to the shadow of the dune behind him stretching across his sandy valley. He blinked a few times, forehead tensing. Then he tried to sit up so suddenly that he almost bonked his forehead. Shaking his head, he rolled over to look for the journal. His eyes widened and lit up when he found it turned to a different page.

 _You really shouldn't be out here. It's not good for you._

 _I want to give you closure, but I don't know how._

 _I miss your smile. I want to see you happy again. Will this make you happy?_

"Bakura..." Marik breathed. "Oh my gods..." He hugged the journal to his chest, grinning. "Yes, yes, this makes me happy, so happy, so, so happy..."


	3. What I Feel Most

**I Told You What I Feel Most and You Held it Like a Ghost**

Marik dug a can of fruit out of his backpack and attacked it with a can opener. Then he sat on the wall and stared at the dune where the first message had appeared. The sandy slope was as blank as Marik's eyes. His fingers dipped into the can, fished out a slice of orange, and shoved it into his mouth. The movements were robotic. Absentminded. When his fingers dipped into the juice and found nothing but liquid, he downed it all in one gulp and stopped moving all together.

Eventually the wind rustling his hair took on a chill. The dip in temperature lured him off his perch, but not out of his thoughts. He put on a warmer shirt and snuggled into his sleeping bag. The gray void above him darkened to star-stippled indigo. He finally grabbed the flashlight and opened the notebook.

 _I was thinking about the night we first met. Remember? You came to my hotel room to discuss our plans? I regret so many things about that night in hindsight. You just sat there staring at the Rod while I went on about how the pharaoh killed my father and ruined my life. I didn't think much of it at the time. I thought you were just another greedy, selfish tomb robber lusting after my gold. I thought you were bored and impatient. But you weren't, were you? You were thinking about the blood and tears that went into that cursed hunk of metal. I feel like such a child waving that thing around like a toy that I never really understood._

 _I'm so sorry, Bakura. I wished I'd known. I wish I could have held you and kissed your pain away. I wish I hadn't been such a selfish brat. I never even asked why you hated the pharaoh. Why you wanted revenge. Maybe if I'd known, we could have... I'm so, so sorry Bakura. If I'd known, I would have been better. If I'd know, I would have cared. Can you ever forgive me?_

He left the journal open on the cold sand and retreated into his padded cocoon. It still took a long time for his respiration to slip into the rhythm of sleep.

Muffled, tinkling music woke him. He poked his face out of the sleeping bag. His eyes fluttered against the white glare of the sand. The six notes repeated persistently. Over and over. Marik frowned at his back pack. As he reached out to grab it, the journal pulled his gaze away. New page. New words. Marik snatched up the journal instead.

 _It's not your fault. It was too late._

 _I made up my mind a long time ago. You almost made me wish I hadn't._

 _I'm sorry, Marik._

 _Let's forgive each other._

Marik's chest heaved. Beads of moisture glittered in the corners of his eyes. Salty rain splattered the dry earth. He clutched his upper arms as though it would still his shuddering shoulders. He sobbed until his throat was dry and his cheeks stung. He might have kept crying if the music hadn't returned with a vengeance.

Taking short, hiccuping breaths, he turned his attention to his backpack once more. This time, his fingers closed around the strap and dragged it closer. He shuffled through the deepest recesses of every pocket until he finally uncovered the source of the noise. His eyebrows drew together as he stared at his phone.

Two missed calls. Several unread texts.

Odion.

Marik turned the phone over in his hands as though he'd never seen such a strange thing before. His jaw tightened as he thumbed the power button. Using the wall for support, he pushed himself to his feet and looked around. Then he cocked his arm and chucked the phone as far into the ruins as he could.


	4. Postcards to the One I Miss

**Postcards to the One I Miss Forever**

Marik sorted his bottles of water into into seven groups of three and sat back to survey them. Then he squinted at the cloudless sky. Eyes bright as the unforgiving sun, he took the pen in hand.

 _We were both confused back then, weren't we? Can we start over?_

 _I'm Marik Ishtar. I have one sister and an adopted brother. My mother died giving birth to me and it drove my father mad. My evil half killed my father so I wouldn't have to live underground anymore. I love motorcycles, rain storms, cats, and the full moon. And wind. Wind is the best. Have you ever flown a kite? Odion took me to a kite festival once, and it was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. Besides you... Is that too forward if we're supposed to be starting over? I don't know. I never had_ _much-_ _any practice flirting. And I guess it's sort of inappropriate considering I'm not even talking about your body... Oh, gods, I guess I can add that I'm a lot more awkward than I care to admit to that list, too._

 _Can you tell me something about yourself? I mean, you know, before_ _Kul Elna-_ _the 'incident?' We never really got to know each other as well as I would've liked. I never even got to see what you really looked like. Not that it matters, I mean, I loved your wit and your irreverence and your 'take no nonsense' way of approaching the world, too. It just makes me really sad that I never got to see you properly. Does that make sense?_

 _Any way, we have time now. Say anything about yourself that you want. I'm ready to listen. I want to hear everything._

Marik placed the journal in its spot on the sand pushed himself to his feet. He took his crutch from his haphazard pile of possessions and made his way carefully into the ruins. It took him maybe an hour and a half to reach the other end of the valley. He stopped next to a cactus and plucked a wilted bloom from it. He toyed with it for a while, plucking off petals and watching them flutter away in the breeze, like tiny kites loosed from their strings. Then he rested on a rock until the sun's intensity finally drove him back to his camp site.

He frowned at the journal. Aside from a fine dusting of sand, it remained untouched and unchanged. Sighing, he grabbed a bottle of water, opened a can of beans, and shimmied back into his shelter.

He awoke at dusk. This time he rolled over more carefully. This time he was rewarded when he checked the journal.

 _Marik I can't-_

 _Don't-_

 _It was a long time ago. I was young. There's not much to say._

 _My mom was a prostitute. She had three kids. I was the oldest. I helped take care of the two younger ones while she was out._

 _I was-_

 _I looked sort of like Ryou with darker skin. It's okay if you thought Ryou was beautiful._

 _Marik, what happened to your leg? Why won't you talk to Odion?_ _You-_ _I thought you loved Odion._

Marik blinked at the page. He lifted his head and looked around. "Bakura? Bakura!" He pushed himself up on the wall and scanned the darkening desert. Then he sat on the wall and grabbed the pen.

 _I fell off my motorcycle._

 _How did you know about Odion? Are you watching me? Can you see me right now?_

He left the journal on the wall this time. After digging through his backpack for a while, he slowly consumed another meal of canned vegetables and water. He watched the night sky open its thousands of tiny, brilliant eyes one by one. His fingers traced constellations in the sand as his eyes traced them in the stars.

The sand cooled. Goosebumps prickled his exposed skin. He bit his lip and rubbed the outside of his leg brace. His fingers fumbled the pill bottle out of his pocket. He stared at the vague shape of the bottle in the darkness for a while. Then he put it away and crawled back into his shelter.


	5. You Told Me of Crashing Cars

**You Told Me of Crashing Cars, Older Brothers and Late Night Bars**

Sleep came very slowly. Marik closed his eyes, lying perfectly still in the sarcophagus of sand, wood, and stone, but his breathing was restless and impatient. He groaned as he rolled onto his side and tucked his good leg up against his chest. The moon hung low in the sky by the time his foggy breath slowed to the rhythm of sleep. The sun was approaching its peak by the time he finally emerged from his cocoon. Marik squeezed his eyes shut, flinching as he fumbled around the hot sand outside his shelter. He dragged the book to him and opened it over his face, blinking up at the pages.

 _Yes, Marik. I am watching you right now._

 _I'm watching you and I wish I could hold-_

 _help you, but I can't._

 _Why did you fall off your motorcycle?_

Marik sat up so quickly that he knocked the roof off his shelter. He rubbed is head as he scanned the blinding sands of the valley. He squinted at every shadow. Cocked an ear at every breeze. He closed his eyes for a long time, deep in thought. Then he grabbed his crutch and stood up. He took a couple steps, and then stopped to grab the journal. Sitting on the wall, he scribbled quickly.

 _So you're not in Aaru? Did you fail your weighing or are you too afraid to go? Why are you still here?_

 _You are helping. The only way it could be better is if I could see you again. I would do anything to see you again. Just to hold you, even if it's only for a little while. If you can see me, does that mean there's a way I can see you? Any way at all? Or feel you? Or hear you?_

 _Some asshole was driving like a maniac. It wasn't a big deal. I don't know why Odion's being so-_

 _Look, it's not important. You're the important thing, now, like you always should have been._

He left the journal on the wall. Then he took two bottles of water and some granola bars and headed off along the same path he'd explored yesterday. He took his time. His crutch poked carefully through the sand. He stopped frequently to examine any larger bits of ruins he could find. His fingers as well as his eyes ran over carvings. His lips moved as he puzzled through hieroglyphs.

By the time he made it to the other end of the valley, the sand had gone from blinding white to gentle gold. Long shadows painted it in large swaths of black. Marik wiped his damp bangs behind his ears and gave those shadows one last hard squint before heading back. That night he barely ate anything. He merely drank his last bottle of water for the day and collapsed onto his sleeping bag.

As still another dawn flooded the valley, he awoke to another message. His wide eyes and broad grin shrank and tightened as he read, until he was almost scowling at the page.

 _I'm not allowed to tell you anything about the afterlife. It's the against the rules. It's not why I'm here._

 _I'm here to-_

 _I'm here because-_

 _This isn't healthy. You're obsessed with a dead man. Don't you understand? D E A D  
_

 _I can't believe I'm saying this. You need to talk to Odion. He's worried about you. We're worried about you._

 _I'm an older brother. I used to worry about my siblings. It's what older brothers are for. Talk to him. You may not be so lucky next time._


	6. What I Know of Shame

**On the top of dead man's hill  
This is what I know of shame forever **

_What the hell, Bakura? This is our chance! Why are you being so stubborn?_

Marik scribbled the words, gripping the pen so tightly his knuckles turned white. Then he flopped on his belly in the sandy sleeping bag. He flicked at a few of the grains that clung to the fabric, but his fingers added more than they took away.

He rolled onto his back to stare at the shadowy wood grain instead. There he remained still for a long time. Closed his eyes. Remained still. Rolled onto his side. His hand fumbled in his pocket until it closed around the bottle of pills. His finger nail picked at the label.

Finally, Marik dragged himself out of his hole. He grabbed two bottles of water and headed off in the opposite direction of the way he'd gone before. Much like the previous day, he inspected any bits of rubble he could find. Mostly, however, he just limped along, dragging his foot through the sand.

He went as far as one bottle of water could get him before he dropped to one knee. Refusing to bend in the thick brace, his other leg stuck out beside him. His fingers twitched in the hot sand as he shift to sit on his hip. He scanned the waste that stretched out in front of him. Then squinted at the sky.

Finally, he gritted his teeth and half crawled, half stumbled back to his camp site. He passed out as soon as his body hit his blankets.

 _Marik. I know what you did. You can't do things like that. I can't let you._

He drifted in and out of sleep for hours. His skin had taken on a rosey glow and he winced when he reached out of his shade to get another bottle of water. He dragged the journal and the back pack closer to the entrance, blocking out more sun.

 _What I did? What are you talking about? If I did something to you, I'm sorry. I'm sorry a million times, but I don't know what you mean. Please just let me see you again. Please! We can talk face to face! We can sort this out!_

The cooler air of twilight carressed his skin. Another jaunt of sleep came with it. Interrupted by a bout of shivering. Marik curled in on himself, groaning in the dark. He fumbled for the bottle of pills, but his hands came up empty. As he felt through the dark heaps of fabric, his hands found the journal instead.

 _You know I'm dead, Marik. How were you planning on seeing me?_

Marik paused, staring at the page with wide eyes. They went glassy for a moment. His unsteady hand picked up the pen. The tip hovered above the page.

 _I... I came out here to find you. I found-_

 _I-_

 _I don't know. I thought if I found you, I could figure something out. I don't know. You-_

 _You're the one-_

 _I don't know!_

Marik turned and slithered head first into his sleeping bag. He remained there until the heat rose unbearably. Until his stomach growled and his throat itched. He reached for his bottle of water first, side-eyeing the closed journal. After a couple of swallows, he opened it slowly.

 _If you weren't planning on doing something stupid, why did that car almost hit you?_


	7. Remember This in Your Heart

**Remember This in Your Heart**

Marik squeezed his eyes shut. His fists clenched until his jagged nails dug painfully into his palms. He took several, deep, shuddering breaths. His writing wobbled illegibly on the page. He scratched several things out before he managed to scrawl out a simple accusation.

 _You're dodging the issue! Why won't you let me see you? Are you really Bakura?_

He stabbed the pen in the sand and dragged himself out of his hole. He limped back and forth in front of his burrow, numb to the searing heat. His teeth tore at his too-short nails, and he was numb to that, too. Thinking. Thinking. Kept thinking until his over-stressed body forced him to lie down. It was the only way.

 _Don't be stupid now. We're running out of time. I'm sorry about what happened. You're sorry about what happened. It's okay. I forgive you. But I'm gone. You have to let me go. You have to go home._

Marik shook his head feverishly. His hair flew in a damp, gold and orange cloud around his face. His eyes were hard. Stubborn. Determined. Desperate.

 _Prove you're Bakura. Tell me something only Bakura would know._

He didn't bother eating. He wasn't hungry, anyway. He simply paced until he was too tired to stand up again. The fog of distress didn't clear until he picked up the journal and found a full page of writing.

 _Our plan was to break into the Pharaoh's group of friends. We knew my host would be the perfect pawn. We needed him to go along with it. We couldn't have him asking too many questions._

 _You said blood loss. The confusion of blood loss and the fear from being wounded would keep him compliant._

 _No one ever questioned it. That I would do something like that to the body I needed. I'm just evil._

 _You thought of it. You did it. You've been carrying that guilty secret ever since._

Marik cringed, eyes scanning the page over and over. He pressed his lips together as he stared at the shadows lengthening around him.

 _So it has to be you... I don't... I need to think..._

With that, he secured the journal in his back pack and started packing his campsite back onto the board. He took stock of his supplies as he did so, pausing as he counted and then recounted the remaining water bottles. Four the first time. Still four the second time. He blinked and shook his head. Finished packing. Set off in a direction perpendicular to his first two directions of exploration.

The cradle of dunes passed into darkness quickly, though the sky remained a vibrant red for a while. Marik searched the ruins feverishly, pulling out the flashlight and a jacket when Ra failed him entirely. Lost in the dark, lost in thought, he wandered on instinct. Ultimately, it wasn't his eyes that found what he sought so desperately. His toe caught a flat edge that pitched him forward into the sand.

The flashlight flew. Marik cried out, rolling onto his back and staring up at his hands. Then he twisted his head until he spotted the soft glow in the sand. Using his elbows and good knee, he crawled through the sand and retrieved the flash light.

He guided the beam around behind him. Along the shadowy streaks he'd left in the sand. His eyes widened as he scrambled back to the thing that had tripped him. A low line of thick bricks. End to end in a neat line. A line that slowly revealed itself to be a square as he brushed sand away.

Marik made a strangled sound in the dark. "The stairs..." Little more than a soft breath shaped by cracked lips. Marik threw his head back and laughed ecstatically at the moon. "The stairs!" His voice was a rough croak, but he didn't care.


	8. Bonfires in the Sky

**We Watch for Bonfires in the Sky**

Marik attacked the center of the square with renewed vigor, blindly sweeping away large swaths of sand with both arms. It was an uphill battle. As the heap of sand next to the hole grew, silky grains kept trying to trickle back in like water. Growling in frustration, Marik pawed through his camping gear until he found an empty can.

Scoop up a can of sand.

Toss it over his shoulder.

Scoop.

Toss.

Scoop...

Beads of sweat stood out on his brow despite the chill in the air. His arm burned from exertion. As a cloud glided across the moon, he finally felt the lip of the can strike something hard. Bloody fingers wiggled into the sand on either side of the hunk of stone. Marik tugged at it, bracing his knees against the brick lip, but the debris wouldn't budge.

Marik sat back, thinking. Then he grabbed his crutch and leveraged that under the chunk of debris instead. He leaned on it as hard as he could. Sat on it with all his weight. Something in the hole shifted with a grinding sound. The soft hissing sound the sand made as it flowed into the small gap seemed magnified in the still, dark air. Marik lifted himself with his arms and good leg before sitting down hard again. There was a muted smattering of clicks as smaller bits of rubble slid and bounced, but the larger stone remained wedged tight.

Marik didn't have the strength to lift himself again. He rolled off into the cold sand and flopped spread eagle beneath the coalescing clouds. Something flashed in the distance. The low rumble rolled in slowly after it. Marik pressed his lips together as he watched the darkening sky.

He only became aware of the sense of presence very gradually. He turned his gaze from the sky to the shadows of the dunes. The obfuscation of the moon made all of the shadows impenetrable, and yet one looked denser still than it should be.

"Bakura?" Marik croaked. He tried to sit up, but only flopped backwards again. Another distant flash drew his attention. He didn't say anything until the second rumble rolled across the valley. "Do you think it's going to rain?"

A light pressure rippled along the skin of his arm, through the fabric of his sleeve.

Marik smiled. "It's strange... I wonder... It's a good omen, isn't it? To keep digging..."

Another far off flash.

"Wait..." Marik rolled onto his side. One hand flailed toward where he thought his backpack must be. A light ripple of sensation tugged at his shoulder. "The book," he insisted. "What if it gets wet?" Another ripple of pressure and Marik let himself flop onto his back. He stared at the dark space between his eyes and the sky. His eyes dipped in a slow blink as he felt the same ripple across his forehead. "Is it even possible to see you? It has to be. If I can find this place... it has to be..."

The only sounds were the faint, intermittent rumbles, but that didn't stop Marik from whispering.

"Have you been down there this whole time? Trapped in the dark?" Marik closed his eyes. "I won't leave trapped in the dark this time. I promise. No one..." he yawned, "deserves... to be trapped..."

Marik drifted off to sleep.


	9. Remember This in Your Head

**Remember This in Your Head**

Marik woke up in a small, shady place. The backpack barely kept the board from resting on top of him. He groaned and wriggled onto his stomach, burying his face in the crook of his elbow. A hard lump in his sleeping bag drew his attention to the journal. He hugged it to his chest with one arm and sighed. After a few more moments, he dragged himself into the yellow light.

Dark clouds still hung in thick clumps, but everything around him was still dry. He grabbed another bottle, and then stumbled over to the hole he'd dug last night. He collapsed on one hip, smiling softly at the rubble in the bottom as he sipped his water. He'd shifted enough debris to reveal a gap about the size of his fist, but it was too dark to see if it went all the way through to the other side.

His head jerked up suddenly. It slowly pivoted toward his pile of stuff. He crawled over and opened the journal so he could re-read the last message he'd gotten. He licked his cracked lips as he slowly wrote.

 _Um... How did you know I never told anyone about stabbing Ryou?_

His hands shook as they placed the open journal on the sand. Marik hugged himself as he looked up at the clouds again. His face was tight, wearing a frown.

He shook his head. Finding the flashlight, he went back to the buried stairs. Marik stretched out on his belly and shined the flashlight into the hole. Other bits of rock jutted this way and that, making it hard to get a clear view all the way down.

Marik sighed. He downed the rest of the bottle, picked up the empty can, and went back to tossing sand out of the shallow pit. It was the only thing he could do until he was tired enough to sleep. Fortunately, maybe, the longer he was out here, the more his body just wanted to sleep.

The journal was closed when he woke up. Marik chewed on his thumb as he flipped to the last page of writing. What he read turned every muscle in his body to stone.

 _It's not hard to guess. After Battle City you were afraid your new friends would hate you if they found out. You never would've told them._

Marik's pupils shrank as his teeth clenched. He grabbed the pen in a fist, scrawling with nearly enough pressure to tear the paper.

 _Liar! You're a gods cursed liar! I never talked to Bakura after the usurping psycho sent him to the Shadow Realm. How would he know that? He wouldn't!_

Marik threw down the pen and staggered to his feet. He hobbled a couple steps before he slipped in the sand and went down again. His teeth dug into his lower lip until it bled. His fingers ran through his hair to the back of his head. His eyes darted to and fro as though trying to follow the thoughts bouncing around his skull. Finally settling on one, he added one more paragraph to his message.

 _There is one thing. One thing that ONLY Bakura would know. Right before that duel, when I brought the Ring to Ryou's hospital room and asked him to help me, what happened between us? And don't jerk me around, either. I want you to say EXACTLY what happened. ALL of it._

With that, he crawled back under the board, and stopped moving.

As afternoon crawled toward evening, he finally received an answer.

 _All of it? Ugh, fine._

 _You used Tea's body as a vessel. I woke up when you put the Ring on my vessel's neck. You told me that you needed someone to send your evil personality to the Shadow Realm. You were worried about Odion. I said I would help you. We went to check on Odion first. The asshole was already there. We couldn't defeat him head on, so we challenged him to a duel instead._

 _There. Happy?_

 _I'M BAKURA. And I want you to GO HOME BEFORE YOU HURT YOURSELF. I want you to LIVE. Please LISTEN to me!_

Marik's face went ashen. "Oh, gods..." he breathed. The journal flipped out of his hands, landing with a careless puff of dust. "You're..." his breath hitched. "You're not Bakura..."


End file.
